Kill The Moonlight
by Aloh Dark
Summary: Hard to explain. Draco's in the bathroom. That's all I'm gonna say.


I wrote this during my spring break. I was in France at the time, for the beginning of this at least. And I wrote the rest of it on the way through Italy. It's short but I hope you like it!!!

Kill The Moonlight

"I Hate You!" Screamed the mirror. Reverberating through the empty room as the fragile glass shattered. He fell to his knees crying. A bloody palm leaving streaks down the wall and pooling around the shards. Reflecting in the candle light from a million broken stars. "I hate you." The mirror sobbed hoarsely. Glittering tears slicing the air and breaking on crumbled glass. He didn't even notice the mirror pull itself back together in its frame. Not a crack left in it's smooth, perfect facade to show it'd ever broken.

He crawled into the showers and turned them on with a whispered word. Steam filled the room as water coursed down his face, mingled with salty tears. He curled up under the blast of liquid fire, drenching the cloths he wore and burning his neck. The pain he welcomed. It proved to his defective heart was still beating in his chest. Something that he'd soon remedy.

He smirked to himself as he noticed his shaking hands. He could barely pull out the small vial from his robes. The vial, he was assured, could kill giants, so it should work on a normal boy. It took him several attempts to open the vial. His hands didn't seem to want to function at all. He pulled his body up so he was sitting and stared at the silver liquid. He closed his eyes as he moved the vial to his lips only to snap them back open again as the vial slipped from his hands. He moaned and grabbed the vial, but it was too late. His salvation had been stolen by the rushing water.

"WHY WON'T YOU LET ME GO?!" The mirror screamed.

He fell to the side and just stared at the water swirling down the drain. He laughed to himself as the need to itch his leg suddenly blossomed in his mind. He started to laugh and cry into the water heated floor. It was absurd. He wanted to die and had just lost the chance he had saved up for months and his leg was itchy.

He sobered quickly as his fingers lightly ran across the scars there. Thin, invisible scars only noticeable to the touch. Countless dozens of them some created in the very stall he was in now. Thin, invisible scars atop tiny, invisible scars atop his flesh. When he got his first he could no longer remember. When he made his last he could never forget.

He thought he'd given it up. But the knife he pulled from his bag proved he'd never really had. The handle felt right in his hand. Like a lost lover coming back from the grave. He watched the water droplets fall on the smooth surface.

He'd danced the dance of chrome courtship a hundred times before. But as always it held the new taste and feel. An excitement laced with morbid pleasure as he rolled up his pant leg. He pressed his lovers steel against his pale flesh. Quick, Swift, Crimson Love. It bled from out the sides of the blade and were diluted and carried away by the falling water. He didn't hiss in pain as he normally did when he pulled the blade away. The river of red drained faster from his flesh.

He watched awhile and felt as if everything to the marrow was leaving hisself. Being purged away with the pale crimson water. The numbness overcame him as he closed his eyes. Yes, that was what he wanted. To Be Numb. To Never Feel Again. He hadn't wanted to go away. He'd just wanted to not feel anything anymore.

He called upon a field of ice to hide himself in. Numb through to the soul. The Ice would freeze him and numb his heart long after the newest scar on his ankle healed. Within the Ice there could be true solace. True peace from the soul shattering pain. 

Standing up, he turned the water off and looked about him. He saw everything, but it felt as if he was looking through another's eyes. And that's how he wanted it. Detachment from the world of pain.

With a quick drying spell he looked the part of the normal student. He dried his bag and walked over to the mirror. He stared at his reflection through impassive eyes. Behind the ice his heart was content. It was finally free from the pain that has been choking it for so long.

He didn't turn as the door to the washroom was opened and another boy walked in. He didn't care who saw him now. They couldn't touch him in anyway that truly meant something. He just continued the stare at the sight of the unseeing.

"Ogling yourself in the mirror some more Malfoy?" Ron Weasley sneered from behind him.

He turned and looked through him. 'You can't touch me.' His heart sang. 'You can never hurt me again.' He turned back to the mirror and turned the water on. He didn't care if it was hot or cold, either would do fine.

Ron walked to a mirror on the other side of the room and stared at his back through the reflection. "What do you thinks gotten into him?" He quietly asked his mirror counterpart.

Draco turned the water off and grabbed his bag. He walked to the door with only a slight limp on his freshly bleeding leg.

"Weasley, you should know that the mirrors here don't talk back." He said before he grabbed the door handle and left the room. A glittering vial reflecting broken light through a shower stall.


End file.
